70 Winters Later
by Illyrian Lassie
Summary: My entry that was submitted to the IchiHime Winter Wonderland Contest. A separation in a winter 70 year ago had Ichigo and Orihime forced to go their own way. 7 long decades, and they finally see each other again to an unfortunate incident. One-shot.


Entry for IchiHime Winter Wonderland Contest (Fanfiction Category):

**70 Winters Later**

* * *

It was the end of November, and flakes of purity had begun to drop from the sky.

She sat there, clad in fabrics thick enough to shield her from the spine-chilling brutality of the frosty atmosphere that does unkind things to her age; on a bench overlooking the baby blue sky, which had its tone lightened for the season, basking in the serenity of the winter. Droplets of snow fell upon her face, her glove-protected hands, and also her lap; and she smiled watching them fall. Child-like, she forced her numb lips into an upward curve, as her recent acquisition of her possibly fondest memories stream through her mind.

How many years since that happened? Probably 50, or was it 60? More, she thought; as she was only 15 when that happened. In a long time, the closest she had gotten into remembering anything from that day was a flash of lights before her eyes. Somewhat, someway, it had expanded more these few days; from a flash of lights to a certain nostalgic voice, and then a certain person's tears dripping to her face. And then to his soft whisper asking her to wait for him.

It was a gruff, strangled whisper. 'Wait for me. I will come and take you there, where we would be together.'

Her thoughts drifted further, she remembered more. The stillness of the cold air around them; the snow that fell slowly; the warmth of his body as he embraced her tightly and drove the coldness away; his hands tenderly wrapping her protectively; and his flushed face that seemed to be burning with sorrow. And then the kiss that seemed to have lasted forever before she collapsed.

However hard she thought, she couldn't remember why had she collapsed, she could only remember the agonizing pain that is torturing her in the midst of the comfort in lying in his arms. His tears were streaming down his eyes and onto her face as he sat laying down her lifeless body and holding her with his trembling hands as if she was about to disappear anytime.

His voice displayed his distress when he whispered 'Live on' from within his strangled chest, as he held her even tighter, hands running through her hair. The inexplicable pain was tormenting her such that she wasn't even able to response in any way other than her continuing flowing tears.

She stayed in his arms for as long as she could remember; and it was like being at home, cuddling each other after a tired day. Incidentally, the snow began a fresher assault on them; but it did no profound effect other than purifying the reds of blood spill into whites of winter. It was straight out from a scene that she once pictured in her head – except that she was standing up and healthy in her imagination.

He lowered his face to hers, but strangely, she found no strength to move any muscle to respond. All she could do was to stay there, occasionally moaning, as he planted a featherlight kiss onto her lips, with his hand clutching hers; as if continuing what they had left off with a softer tone. He closed their foreheads, nuzzling their noses together and breathed 'Wait for me. I will come and take you there, where we would be together,' enough just to let her hear his barely audible voice.

With these works, the next thing she saw was his head lifted, and then a flash of lights into nothingness.

She turned her eyes to a group of boys playing with rolled-up snow, forming balls and threw them towards one another. She loved the laughter that will always brighten up her days, and had a sudden longing to immortalize that moment into her drawing book. She willed her numbing hands into reaching the book that she always carry along with her; but they had failed her once again. Paralyzed by illness, her willpowers are the only one that is able to mobilize them, and now, they had failed her. She opened her mouth in attempt to recall her voice that may have been frosted too; but her caretaker was dismissed on an errand and unfortunately is not available. Nobody is there to heed her needs; and her illness struck again.

Her chest throbbed in excruciating ache; and she found it harder to breathe by the second. Her body is starting to weigh down on her, and she found herself gasping for air now that her respiratory system seemed to have blocked. She gasped, and inhaled; and gasped and exhaled – until she regained her own composure. She lifted her frail head; and her eyes met with the approaching silhouette of a person that she was intensely thinking about just a few minutes ago.

He had escaped her memories for a few good decades. Ah, she remembered, finally. It had been 70 years after that incident took place; however, the fragments of his mark in her heart never left her. She had always been hearing a faceless voice whispering to her; asking her to wait; and the faceless is now materialized. It had been miraculous that she had obeyed that faceless voice after all these years, when she had great chances of letting the voice fall into obscurities. Now that she could finally rejoice in remembering the face and seeing him in person – she wanted to call him out badly; but her throat failed her like how her hands did a few moments earlier.

He called her instead. 'Orihime' was all he said as he walked nearer, a pair of familiar silver-blue hairpins within the grasp of his palm. His voice was as how she had remembered; with tenderness that always melt her heart despite its gruffness.

He was clad in a casual pair of jeans reminiscent of his punk styled winter wear; but he had never looked more charming and handsome. She had long discarded his frowns, but rather, had his reassuring smiles all implanted to her head. His bright orange hair had grown a noticeable length; nevertheless, he looked the same as he did 70 years ago.

Her lips curved further upwards, and they did not fail her; with only tears defining her happiness into finally seeing him, the man she had never really forgotten but had longed for 7 decades. 7 long decades. Waiting for him without herself conscious about it. And tears of relief into learning that he had also been waiting for her. Somewhere, and he will take her with him now.

Nothing else matters to her as he sat beside her, fastening the hairpins that once had belonged to her into her hair; and pull her into an embrace.

She felt immediate warmth flowing into her body, and nothing else matters.

She will follow him now, and nothing else matters.

Her tears intertwined with his as their face closing into each other.

'I had arrived.' Nothing else matters to her, not anymore.

* * *

Matsumoto paced towards Hitsugaya's office, just to find her captain eating his early breakfast.

'Taichou!!!' She yielded his attention from the fresh dango and a cup of hot tea that he is apparently indulging in.

Hitsugaya lifted his head lazily from his plate to reveal his obvious eyebags. Damn Matsumoto, why does she have to barge in just when he's starting to take a break from his overnight ordeal of paperworks of _two_ divisions? And he will have to work on them again later; just because someone else was too busy with her sake the night before.

She had apparently caught his half-fatigue, and instead of concerning about his night tryst with his work, she laughed. Real hard.

'Taichou…' Hitsugaya never felt this ridiculed before.

'Shut it, Matsumoto. Get yourself prepared for work here in 10 minutes.'

Matsumoto's laugh reduced and she finally say something other than what she had used to call him. 'Are you taking over the 5th division's works again?'

Hitsugaya sighed, and he doesn't feel like answering her. He continued to chew on his newly eaten dango. Yes, he is indeed taking over the fifth division's work again, as he had been doing on regular basis since the captain of that division had been busy with a particular region in Rukongai and the real world lately.

'Hey, Taichou, I know you have some fondness for him,' Matsumoto finally had the decency to stop laughing and instead speak in a halfway serious tone. She closed the door behind her, and entered the office.

'But isn't this too much?' she completed her sentence as she settled on the couch that usually doubles up as her bed.

Hitsugaya contemplate for a while. Is it really worth it? After all, that idiot that is the captain of the 5th division is always slacking off to either the real world or Rukongai while leaving him with his paperworks that will be due while he is away, and let his division members train in _his_ division. Ah, things that he will do for him. However, he knew that today's is probably the last of the workloads that he will take for him. Today is important for that fellow, and Hitsugaya knew it damn well.

"Ichigo is pretty troublesome, huh?' Matsumoto grabbed a sake bottle after the one in her hands showed signs of complete vacancy. 'Where is he going today, and for how long?'

Hitsugaya took a sip from his tea, while making a slurping sound, and said, 'Today's the real world, and it will be two days. So he's going to be back in his office tomorrow. Remember to not say anything to anyone.'

Matsumoto replied, 'Hey, Taichou, shouldn't he at least be asking for proper permissions from General-Commander Yamamoto if he's that desperate?'

'I mean, everybody saw the day he wiped her powers and memories; when everybody heard his cries that pierced the sky. That was the happiest days in the history of Soul Society, and yet, it turned out as the saddest to the hero of who beat them all.'

'Stop being melancholic, Matsumoto. I saw it, and there's no need for reminders. Do you think Kurosaki will want everybody to see how lovesick he is to constantly take breaks so that he can visit the real world to take a look on her, or to search for a Kurosaki resident in Rukongai as a getaway?'

Matsumoto looked surprised, 'So that's why he's been in Rukongai for, Taichou? Why haven't you told me so? I thought he's there to look out for her departure into Soul Society?'

'He did that, a long time ago. There's a way of seeing when is somebody going to die, and he asked Ukitake for it, with the General-Commander allowing it. And today is _that _decisive day, so shut up and help me out.' Hitsugaya answered.

Matsumoto silenced, but she never moved an inch, except that her heads are bending down to stare at her thighs. 'How many years had it been, Taichou? It's so sad to see him sometimes, pining for the same person after all these years.'

'When there was any celebration, he rarely joined in, and he will just disappear. There are times I saw that when he was alone, he would stare elsewhere. It is just sad, Taichou. Now that you tell me, it's obvious that he's in Rukongai to build a home before she crosses over here. Do you think he purposely hid himself, and watched her from the backgrounds so to serve as a form of punishment for himself?'

Hitsugaya pushed his empty plate aside, and took another sip of his tea. 'Perhaps, Matsumoto. He thought that it was his fault that she made her way back into Hueco Mundo to destroy the Hougyoku after she returned to real world; only to have her powers backfired and hit herself instead. The only solution was to have her powers and memories of Kurosaki completely wiped.'

'I think he could have stayed there to refresh her memories, but he refused to. He told me that he wouldn't want to remind her of anything related to himself, and therefore he had requested a full-time shinigami job, leaving the real world completely.'

Matsumoto lifted her head and faced her captain. 'But he couldn't leave her, could he? That's why he's making all those illegal trips to the real world, so that he could at least watch over her discreetly, isn't he? And now that she's dying, he is there to take her here, isn't he?'

Hitsugaya put his cup on the edge of the table, and started ruffling through his tableful of files. 'Now that you know why I am doing this, shut up, get dressed, and help me out.'

Matsumoto clearly brightened up, and stood up to face her captain. 'Hey, Taichou. I have been wondering since you are so close to Ichigo…'

Hitsugaya merely looked at her, anticipating her next words.

'Are you sure you are not going to be jealous of Orihime hogging all of Ichigo's attention when she finally make it here?'

Hitsugaya clenched his fist, gritted his teeth and shouted her name, only to found himself staring at a Matsumoto-less room.

Matsumoto's shunpo skills could be annoying at times like this.

* * *

He held her in him; and for the first time in many years, he finally gets to feel the warmth that he had sorely missed.

He saw her face, and they were lined with the cruelties of aging. He saw her frail body, and they were bound by the agonies of diseases. No matter how she looked like now, he will always see her as the cheerful girl whose smiles comfort her; whose tears encouraged her – whose everything had captured his eyes and stolen his heart.

He whispered to her softly and ran his fingers through her whitened hair. He had been watching her for many years, but seeing her as she is now never failed to sadden him. There are times where he wanted to hold her so badly, to tell her that all is right with the world. To tell her that he will always be by her side. To embrace her and kiss her senseless. To tell her that he loved her.

He regretted that he had never told her all those words, and couldn't even bring himself to say it even within her last memories of him. All he wanted at that time was that she could continue living without the pain that was overwhelming her, without realizing that the colour in his life faded at the moment that he realized that his life is officially devoid of her.

He wanted to be strong, wanted to stay tough – but he just couldn't. There were so many things that he wanted to say, so many instances that he will just be content at a mere glance of her, so many nights that his dreams were centered on how he had made himself suffer when he chose to erase him from her memories.

But all is right now. The world had finally spun the way he wanted. Never had he rejoiced the passing of a human; but her passing is to journey towards where he had prepared as their sanctuary, and just the thought of it brought tears into his eyes. They will be together – in the grassy land with a tiny cottage just like she had wanted.

They sat there, watching the snowfall, without any other word spoken. Just there. Within each other's arm.

He couldn't see how long they were there; but he doesn't care. He wanted to ease her passing, and he's too contented to speak anymore.

Just as the dusk faded with the blacks of the night, a silhouette with a humanoid appearance with a broken chain in the chest approached him. She was the younger version of herself, and it was as though he found his youth all over again.

'Orihime' was all he could say, and her smile was so broad that they just lit up the night sky.

He carried the lifeless body that was still within his arms, and he traveled the night with her – physically and spiritually.


End file.
